At 7:15, he rested his head on the pillow and dozed off as the previous day's events caught up with him. The sound of Lorraine shutting the hall door when she arrived for work woke him shortly before 9:00.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, looking at his watch and discovering he was late.

He heard footsteps as she walked around the ground floor, the sound echoing through the house as she began her work. He closed his eyes for what felt like an instant, but woke to a sudden knock at his bedroom door, just before it was pushed open.

“Will? It’s after nine,” Lorraine said quietly, her head the only part of her body inside the room.

“Thanks, Lorraine,” he said. “I slept it off, sorry.”

“No problem,” she said, “would you like some company?”

She stepped inside the room, pulling a white sleeveless vest over her head and revealing a white lace bra that held her breasts enticingly. Before he could react, she peeled off her black leggings and pulled back the bedclothes to see he was suffering from a bad dose of morning wood.

“Fuck, Will,” she said with a grin, “that looks bigger than yesterday.”

“Lorraine, stop. Put your clothes back on, please,” he said.

“Let me blow you at least,” she said. “I’ll never ask again.”

“No, that can’t happen again, Lorraine,” he said, trying, without success, to block the hand that was reaching for his cock.

She slicked the catch on the front of her bra, and it fell open, revealing her breasts with her nipples swollen, hard and erect.

“Lorraine,” he said as firmly as he could as she took the head of his cock in her mouth.

He tried to pull her mouth away, but it was futile; her technique overcame him, and he decided it would be easier and quicker to let her continue. She knelt on the bed as she continued to coat him with saliva, wrapping her tongue around his tumescent head as she brought him higher, his legs opened wide, and his hips raised slightly. She wriggled out of her bra, sliding her naked skin along his body as her tongue sought his, a smile on her face as he responded.

“Touch me, Will,” she whispered, “make me come with your fingers.”

“No, we can’t, Lorraine.”

“Just this once,” she pleaded, “I’m so wet and turned on. Don’t leave me like this. Please. Make me come.”

She had brought his hand to her pussy, and he slipped it inside her thong, his fingers slowly beginning to stroke her inner labia, seeking her clit.

“Yes, fuck me with your fingers,” she breathed, as he penetrated her with two.

He felt her wetness as it soaked his fingers, heard her breath catch, and felt her face bury itself in the crook of his neck.

“Fuck, that’s so good,” she said, as she reached to pull her thong to one side for him.

His fingers slipped out of her as she straddled him and ground herself against his erection, moaning softly as she moved.

“No, Lorraine,” he said, “this isn’t right.”

“It feels right, Will,” she said, “I know you want it as much as I do.”

“Fuck,” he said, sensing he was fighting a losing battle and deciding to make it count.

He turned her on her back and knelt between her legs. He ripped her thong from her body, tearing the flimsy garment to shreds in the process. She sat up and pulled him in for a kiss, and he pushed her back down, their lips locked together as his cock slipped deliciously inside her, encouraging a loud exhalation of breath from her as he began to fuck her furiously. Her cries of pleasure almost deafened him as a volatile climax tore her apart and the muscles of her pussy gripped him tightly. He rode through it, his own release imminent as he plunged to his full depth and released a heavy stream of come deep inside her. Her body shook heavily as he pulled out and turned on his back, her hand holding his as he held her to him.

“Fuck, Lorraine,” he said, “I’m so sorry.”

“For what, Will?” she asked. “I think we both needed that.”

“Possibly, but it’s not right, Lorraine.”

“I think you owe me some new knickers,” she said, laughing.

“You know where I keep them,” he said with a grin, “help yourself.”

“You want me to wear another woman’s knickers?” she asked.

“Only the ones that aren’t torn,” he said, and they doubled up in laughter.

“Thanks, Will,” she said. “Seriously. That was fantastic.”

“I know, Lorraine, don’t ever do that again, though,” he said.

“I’ll try not to,” she said. “I’d better get dressed and start work now, unless you want to go down on me first?”

“No, now get to work, little girl.”

He watched her gather her clothes and get dressed after she'd cleaned up in his bathroom.

“I could seriously fuck her all day,” he thought as he rose from the bed and walked into the bathroom to shower.

He dressed quickly and went down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Lorraine had put the pot on, and it was just made. He took it into his office and was trawling through emails when he heard a noise behind him. He turned to see Lorraine standing in the doorway, twirling a pink lace thong around on the end of her forefinger. He swallowed, watching it turn in the air, almost in slow motion.

“Are you going commando today?” she asked with a grin. “Or is this to replace the one you just ripped off of me?”

He snatched it from her, folded it and put it in his pocket.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” she asked. “Or need I ask?”

“That’d be telling, Lorraine,” he said.

“I know who owns it in any case,” she said, laughing.

“Good, well, keep it to yourself, will you?”

“My lips are sealed, boss,” she said.

“Speaking of which, Lorraine, will you give me an invoice for what I owe you, and I’ll get it to you this evening?”

“Thanks, Will,” she said. “I’ll do that today. I’ve to start in your Dad’s place tonight — his usual crew left him in the lurch.”

“Oh, will you manage alright?”

“We’ll be fine — there are three of us going out there at 4:00,” she said. “It’ll be grand. He asked me to tell you to phone him at some stage before the weekend.”

“Thanks, Lorraine, I wish he’d learn how to text,” Will said. “His communication system is still back in the sixties.”

“Right, well I’ll get on,” she said with a wink, “I’m running a bit late now.”

“I’ll be out of your way presently — I’ve a few things to do in town this morning,” he said.

“Is the owner of the thong one of them?”

He grinned. “I thought you knew who it was?”

“I can guess, Will.”

He walked past her with a smile, opened the washing machine door, took out the rest of Jane’s washing, and handed it to Lorraine.

“You wouldn’t do me a favour and run the iron over these for me, Lorraine?”

She took it from him.

“If you can wait five minutes, I’ll make sure they’re crisp and fresh,” she said, holding up a white thong in front of his face. “There’s not much ironing on these. It must have been a long night.”

He smiled at her and went back inside the office to finish off what he’d started. When he finished, he placed the clean underwear into a carrier bag and left the house, letting Lorraine know he was leaving as he opened the door.

His first meeting of the day was at the offices of Parker, O’Connor Architects, where he had to drop off three quotes and pick up the site plans for a Georgian house renovation contract he’d won a few weeks beforehand. He parked his car on Leeson Street and walked briskly to his destination, where the office manager, Oonagh O’Laoire, a tall fair-haired woman, met him at the door. She greeted him with a kiss and led him to her office.

“How’s Will?” she asked. “You’re late.”

“What’s wrong, Oonagh? Are you still pissed off with me?”

“Yes. Why haven’t you called me? Was I just another of your one-night fuck toys?”

“You know how it goes, Oonagh. We both got what we needed from that,” he said. “We didn’t plan anything more, did we? I mean, the phones work both ways, don’t they?”

“You’re such a sensible bastard,” she said. “I can’t stay angry at you.”

He smiled. “You love me really, don’t you?”

“That’s a bit strong, Will, but you have a way of getting under my skin.”

“It was fantastic, though,” he said.

“Yes, it was,” she said. “And it would be again.”

“But what if it wasn’t, Oonagh? Would the memory of that night be enhanced by another night together? Is the risk of your husband finding out worth the risk of it being less exciting the second time around?”

“Perhaps not,” she said. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Not at this moment in time,” he said.

“Who is she? She must be special,” she said.

“Honestly, nobody,” he said.

“But you’re working on it, aren’t you? I know you, Will — you have that air about you,” she said.

“I don’t know yet, Oonagh,” he said, “stay tuned is all I can say. It’s complicated.”

“Ok, you’re working with Brian Doyle on this file. His number two is Dervla Kelly, and their direct and mobile numbers are on the contact list in the file. Good hunting, Will,” she said with a laugh, “that’s almost the title of a movie.”

They kissed again, this time tenderly on the lips.

“I’m here if you need me,” she whispered in his ear.

“Same here, love,” he replied and left for his next stop.

He had just left his next appointment and was in his car searching for a coffee shop on Morehampton Road when his phone rang. It was Jane,

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” he said.

“I’m not disturbing you, am I?” she asked.

“Never. Is everything ok?”

“Never better, actually,” she said. “I need some information.”

“Ok, if I can help you, I will.”

“What are you wearing tonight?”

“I beg your pardon,” he said, laughing.

“To dinner, what are you wearing to dinner?” she said.

“I’m fucked if I know, Jane, what should I wear?”

“A suit, of course,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because I’m standing in front of the cutest little dress in Marks out in Blanchardstown Shopping Centre and I want to wear it,” she said.

“Ok, I get it,” he said. “I’ll wear a suit.”

“Good, what colour is it?”

“I have a few,” he said, “black, navy, a lighter blue and a kind of dark grey, charcoal type which I hate.”

“Do you have a pinstripe suit?” she asked.

“Narrow or wide pinstripes?” he asked.

“Wide,” she said.

“I’m not the fucking Godfather, Jane. No.”

“Ok, narrow then,” she said.

“No, I don’t have one of those either.”

“What kind have you got?” she asked.

“I don’t have one at all,” he said.

“Could you not have just said that in the beginning?” she said.

“Then I wouldn’t get to hear your voice.”

“Ok, get serious here, Will. If you wear the black suit, I can buy one of three colours in this dress.”

“What colours?” he asked.

“Mind your own business.”

“Ok, I’ll wear the black suit,” he said. “What colour tie should I wear?”

“I’ll get you the right tie,” she said. “Thanks for that.”

“I don’t wear clothes from Marks,” he said.

“Currently.”

“Ok,” he laughed.

“That’s all I needed for now,” she said. “I’ll call you later. If you need me, call the hotel number. They gave me a new room — I’ll text you the number when I know it.”

“Why did they do that?” he asked.

“I complained about it this morning, so they upgraded me to a bigger room.”

“Why are you switching your phone off?” he said.

“My in-laws are bugging me. I had his mother on, screaming at me this morning,” she said, “so I blocked her and switched the phone off.”

“I’m sorry you’re going through that, Jane,” he said.

“It’s to be expected,” she said. “I eventually resolved the quandary I was in regarding my next decision, though.”

“Which is?”

“I’m not going back.”

“Don’t do anything final yet,” he said. “People don’t know how to react to something like this, Jane — it’s traumatic for everyone.”

“He called me a whore,” she said quietly.

“Oh, that’s not nice,” he said.

“She obviously came to that conclusion herself too, based on whatever her idiot son told her,” she said.

“What did he tell her?” he asked.

“God knows, but I don’t care anymore, Will. I’m done with them.”

“Ok, give it a few days to calm down before you make any major decisions,” he said.

“But then I wouldn’t have a new dress for this evening, would I?” she said, laughing.

“No, you probably wouldn’t,” he laughed.

“Thanks, Will,” she said, “really.”

“You’re welcome anytime. I’ll talk to you later,” he said. “If you need me, just shout — let me know you’re ok.”

“I will,” she said, and hung up.

He sat in his seat just looking at his phone. Positions were becoming entrenched, and assumptions were becoming facts. The collective busybodies were taking control, and he felt that Jane was becoming isolated. She was going to need the support of her own family, whatever that might look like, and he wondered if they were aware of the situation. He trawled through his phone book and hit Robert’s number.

“Hey, Will,” Robert chirped.

“Morning, Rob, how’s it going?”

“Good, good, you?”

“Busy, you know yourself. Are you finished with those colour swatches yet? I need them for a consult tomorrow — you can have them back when I’m finished with them,” I said.

“Yeah, about that, Will,” he said, “we’re probably not going to do any of that work now.”

“Oh, ok.”

“Yes. Jane’s gone AWOL — you were there when she left,” he said.

“Where is she gone?”

“God only knows,” he said, “her mother doesn’t even know. She won’t take my calls or answer texts. I called everyone she knows, and they either haven’t heard from her or won’t tell me. I think she’s gone for good.”

“What happened?” Will asked.

“I don’t think she ever wanted to be married, Will. I suspect she’s having an affair.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why do you immediately assume something like that, Rob?” he said. “I’m surprised that you’d go straight to that.”

“Says the confirmed bachelor,” Robert said with a hint of bitterness.

“Let’s not go there, Rob,” he said, “you’re not going to win that debate. Will you drop those swatches in my green bin if there’s no answer at the door, please?”

“I will.”

They hung up, and Will found a coffee shop that looked inviting. It wasn't overly busy, so he ordered a coffee and a sandwich, then sat by the window and checked his messages. There was nothing of interest, so he laid it flat on the table when the girl arrived with his order. He was stirring his brew when it rang. He smiled when he saw the caller's name.

"Mr. Fox!" he said.

"Not you too, Will," he said, "that's getting old."

"Sorry, Anton, I couldn't resist."

"Try."

"Ok, what can I do for you? Are we still ok for this evening? You didn't give us someone else's table by mistake, did you?"

"No, nothing like that, Will. They're really all my tables," he laughed.

"So what do you need?"

"A guy called to book a table at D'Olier Street for tonight. Robbie Ward, he says that he knows you. I wouldn't bother you with it, except he wants a private room for an anniversary dinner."

I thought fast. Robbie Ward, the name was familiar but not immediately recognisable. I was about to say as much when Anton chipped in again.

"He's a consultant orthopaedic surgeon. He says you do all of his building work."

"Ah, Robert Ward," Will said. "Yes, he's a client. An anniversary, you say?"

"Yes, I think he said it was their first anniversary or something," he said.

"For him and his wife?" I asked.

"I presume so, although it's difficult to tell these days since many women retain their maiden names," he said.

"What names did he give you?" Will asked.

"Let me see here," he said, trawling through the bookings. "Yes, here it is, Robert Ward and Fiona Hendry. She probably didn't fancy becoming a Ward."

"Is that what it says on the booking form?"

"Yes, Robert Ward and Fiona Hendry - First Anniversary Celebration Dinner with wine matching and champagne toast."

"Interesting," I said. "What time?"

"7:30. He wanted 9:00, but it's the tasting menu with matching wines accompanying every course, and we close at 11:00."

"Can you screenshot that for me and WhatsApp it to me?"

"Sure thing, why?"

"So I can get them a gift," Will said, "I didn't realise it was a year."

"Ok."

Will heard the click of a camera followed by the sound of a text.

"There you go, Will," Anton said.

"Do you have CCTV in those private rooms?" Will asked.

"Yes, we have to in case of an incident," Anton said.

"Incident? What kind of incident?"

"You would not believe the half of it, Will. Let's just say that I could make several porn movies out of the footage that we have on our hard drive."

"Can you get me a ten-minute clip of them canoodling?"

"Yes, but why?"

"I'll tell you next time I see you," Will said. "It'd really help me out if I could get a few pictures too."

"What are you up to?" Anton asked.

"If you're on tonight, I'll tell you."

"I'll get you anything you want if you'll do that kitchen for Carol," he said, laughing.

"Get me the right pictures, and I'll do it for choice," Will said.

"I don't want it for free. If it helps you out, I'd do anything I can for you, Will."

"I'll owe you if you do, Anton."

"Ok, I'm guessing this is not Ward's wife," Anton said.

"I am too, but a quick call will confirm or deny it for me," Will replied.

"Ok, Inspector Clouseau is on the job," he said.

"I prefer Harry Bosch."

"See you tonight, Will, don't be late. This might be an interesting evening," he said, and they hung up.

Will finished his food slowly, mulling over his thoughts and assembling the information he had into a timeline. Jane's number flashed on his screen as he read the screenshot of the restaurant booking. He answered it quickly.

"I was just thinking about you," he said.

"A penny for them," she replied with a hint of a smile.

"That shall remain private.”

"Spoilsport! We've a HIQA inspection this afternoon, and I'm off at 3:30, so you can call me if you need me," she said.

"That's a handy little job you have there," he said.

"Not always, but I’ll take it when I get it."

"Would you like me to buy you a coffee when you're done?"

"That'd be perfect, Will. I'm dreading going back to that hotel, although the new room might be better."

"True," he said, "do you want me to pick you up there?"

"Yes, we can have a coffee downstairs — they make good coffee."

"While I have you, Jane, do you know anyone called Fiona Hendry?"

"Yes, she works with Robert. She's his registrar. Why?"

"No reason, the name came up today, that's all," he said, "I'll tell you later."

"To be honest, I'm not a fan of hers — I always suspected that those two had something going on," she said.

"Really? Why?"

"Just an intuition, but it's irrelevant now," she said.

"Why?"

"I'm not going back there, Will. I'll take my chances and offer him a divorce."

"When did you decide this?"

"I was talking to my boss this morning. She's going through the same thing," she said.

"I see. When are you planning on talking to him about it?" he asked.

"Why?"

"I'm just wondering," he said.

"Maybe tomorrow, on his day off. Does that suit you?" she laughed.

"Yes, but it might suit you better," he said.

"You know something, don't you?”

"I might do."

"Ok, forget 3:30, get your little arse out to the Clayton Hotel right now," she said.

"Ok, I'm going to forward a screenshot to you when I'm on my way. I want you to read it and do nothing until I get there."

"What is it?" she asked.

"You’ll find out in a few minutes when I'm closer to you than I am now."

"No, wait until we're together, Will. This is all new to me."

“I’ll meet you in the lobby,” he said.

“No, I’ll text you the number for the new room. You can come straight there,” she said. “I’ll leave work now.”

He received her text as he drove into the car park. He took her bag of clothes from the back seat, locked the car, and made his way to the lift, reading the text again to make sure he had the correct room number — Viscount 2, Floor 6. It was a weird number for a hotel room. He got in the lift and pushed the button for the sixth floor. A message came up on the control panel requesting a code.

“Fuck!” he said and texted her.

Hi, Jane, is there a code for the lift?

A party of three people got into the lift beside him, and he stepped out as he waited for her text. It only took a couple of minutes, but it felt like hours as he hung around the lobby. His phone buzzed with a text,

6002. Sorry, I was on the phone. Work:).

K. cu in a bit.

The lift door opened onto a bright corridor filled with daylight. It was almost as if the lift had magically transported him to a different dimension. It was a stark improvement on the rest of the building — it even smelled fresher, the diffused corridor air less chemically enhanced. He followed the signs for the Viscount Suites, named, he now saw, for a type of Aeroplane. He pushed the door marked Viscount and entered a short walkway with glass walls offering views across Dublin, and it was quite impressive. A plaque on the wall gave a brief history of the plane, and an arrow pointed the way to Suite 2, the second of four rooms in the Viscount section, one of five sections named after types of aircraft. She opened the door to his knock and smiled as he handed her the bag with her clothing, and then laughed as he pulled her pink thong out of his pocket.

“Lorraine found it this morning — I had it blocked out in the utility room to dry,” he said.

“So you carried it around in your pocket all day?” she said.

He grinned. “I didn’t mind.”

“Will I dust it for fingerprints?” she laughed.

He laughed then. “I wouldn’t.”

“Thanks, Will,” she said, hugging him as he closed the door behind him and walked into an airy vestibule.

She led him into a reception room that overlooked the M50 motorway.

“Fuck me, Jane,” he said, “this is impressive.”

“I know,” she said, “I didn’t realise this was here. It’s an executive suite.”

“How did you get this?”

“I complained about the noise last night — kids were running up and down the corridor at midnight, and when I handed my ID over, they saw I was a doctor,” she said. “I’m not complaining, though. Let me show you around — it’s huge.”

The reception room was really a lounge with contemporary seating, a huge TV screen and a work area with data ports for computer work. It had a dining area with a small scullery set-up in the corner where one could make hot drinks, and an integrated microwave to heat food. It was a very tactile environment, which caused him to reach out and touch the walls and various other surfaces he passed as she gave him a guided tour of the huge spa bathroom and separate bedroom, brightly lit in the watery afternoon sunlight, that housed a huge king-sized bed that he just had to sit on to test its comfort level, and a large TV screen on the wall at the foot of the bed.

“Jesus, Jane, I’d live here myself. It’s fantastic!” he enthused.

“I know, isn’t it just?” she said. “There’s even a TV in the bathroom!”

“I have one of those too, Jane — they’re more of a pain in the arse than anything else.”

“At least it’s there if nothing else,” she said. “I wasn’t even allowed a TV in the bedroom.”

“No? I never noticed that there wasn’t one,” he said. “Why not?”

“Oh, I’m fucked if I know,” she said. “He had too many little foibles that I didn’t find as endearing as he felt I should. You wouldn’t believe the half of it.”

She led him back to a sofa in the lounge, and they sat together.

“Show me this text,” she said quietly.

He pulled it up and handed her his phone, forwarding the text to her as he did so. She read it quietly and handed it back. She stood and walked to the glazed wall, slid a concealed door aside, and breathed in the air that suddenly rushed into the room. He watched as she collected herself and tried to put her thoughts in order whilst staring out at the sky above. She didn’t seem unhappy. It almost seemed like a relief to her, he felt.

He debated whether to sit there or go to her. He chose the former and sat back against the sofa's backrest, his eyes watching her for a reaction. She stood in the doorway, arms folded, her brow furrowed in deep thought. She wore a plain pink blouse and a navy skirt. Her legs were bare, and she shivered in the cold air off the motorway. Adjusting her hair in the breeze, she slid the door shut and sat beside him on the sofa.

“I have something to tell you,” she said.

“I have something to tell you too, Jane,” he said.

"Let me go first, Will," she said.

"While I always insist on the woman going first, Jane," he said with a grin, "I think you need to hear mine first, this time, at least."

"You think I don't get your inference, Will?" she laughed. "Go on, then."

I explained my conversation with Anton and the pictures we'd hoped to get. She was excited by that.

"Caught in the act," she said. "But am I not planning a similar thing, Will?"

"No, at least not outwardly, but I don't know what you're thinking deep down, Jane," he said. "Besides, there's a further step we can take here."

"Go on," she said.

"You have a key to the house, don't you?"

"Yes."

"We can get a heads-up when they leave D'Olier Street."

"Ok, what use is that to us?" she asked.

"Let's say they leave the restaurant at 9:30," he said. "We give them thirty minutes to get to your house, another fifteen for them to get comfortable and then another fifteen before you walk in there with a camera and catch them in the act. I think a video would be better than photographs, to be honest."

"You expect me to do that?" she said.

"I can hold the camera if you like," he said with a grin.

"Ok, let me think about that," she said. "Now I have to tell you something."

"Ok," he said.

"I don't want you to think badly of me, Will. Promise me you'll listen with an open mind," she said, wringing her hands together as she spoke.

He nodded as her eyes bored into his.

"Say it!” she said.

"I promise, Jane. No judgment or opinion."

"Ok, a couple of nights ago I overheard screams coming from your bedroom window," she began, "at first I thought it might have been a woman being assaulted coming out of the pub. He laughed at me and went back to sleep, but I was wide awake, so I went to the kitchen and opened the roof window so I could hear what was going on."

"Look, Jane—"

"You have to let me get through this, Will."

"Ok, sorry."

"I became obsessed with it. I couldn't get it out of my mind. I imagined things a married woman shouldn't imagine. I invented scenarios that were straight out of a porn film. I was jealous of Carol at the GFP," she said, "even Sinead noticed it."

"Jane—"

"I dressed in a way that might get your attention at the meeting in the house. Robert noticed it and called me on it, but we had a blazing row just before you arrived. Up until that point, Will, I was totally in the wrong. When he excluded me from the meeting, it put me in my place, and I don't think he was expecting the reaction that he got when I left."

Will sat there, deep in thought as she took his hand.

"You've been nothing but a gentleman all through this, Will, and I'm so sorry that I let my frustrations run away with me."

"You became obsessed with a woman screaming?" he asked.

"Yes, I did," she said shyly, "but it was more the thoughts behind what made her scream than the actual screaming itself."

"Or who," he said.

"Yes, or who, I can't apologise enough."

"So how do you feel now?"

"Foolish, betrayed, annoyed," she said.

"Why foolish?"

"I was a married woman, Will," she said. "I was fantasising about another man and what he could make me feel. I doubted I could feel that way because I never have."

"I would regard that as normal, Jane, for a man or woman," he said. "I've often fantasised about you."

"What?"

"No red-blooded man could stop himself, Jane. You're a beautiful, sexy woman."

"How dare you," she said, and they both fell around laughing.

Her remark burst the rising tension in the room, and they sat together on the sofa, an awkward hesitancy evident in their demeanour. He touched her hand, and she grasped it in both of hers, watching as they enfolded his fingers, his throat constricting with doubt and uncertainty. He looked at his watch: 3:45.

"Do you have to be somewhere else?" she asked in a low voice.

"No, I'd planned to be home by 4:30 so we could make the 7:00 booking, if you still fancy it," he said.

"Of course I do, Will, I've been living for it all day," she said.

"Great. So have I. Plus, I'm dying to see what colour tie I have to wear."

"That's a secret for now," she said.

"So you were obsessed, were you?" he said, sensing an ease in the atmosphere.

"Yes, I was."

She watched him lift her hands and kiss her fingertips.

"Robert said that it used to be a regular occurrence when he first moved in," she said.

"What was?"

"Women screaming in the throes of passion."

"He actually said that?"

"Not quite, but he did say that he had to have a word with you about it and it stopped," she said.

"Ok, that’s his version."

"Why didn't you tell him to mind his own business?"

"I didn’t say anything to him at all, Jane. There was no need to start an argument over a €5 draught excluder," he said. "Nothing ever changed on my side of the wall. Robert is under some delusion if he thinks that, but now that I think of it, there's a memory in my mind of the lady in question opening that window the other night to let some cold air in."

"Was it getting hot in there?" she said with a smirk.

"You tell me, you almost had a ringside seat."

He reached out and touched her face, his eyes searching hers for something intangible.

“Sorry about that, I should have been more watchful,” he said.

“Don’t be,” she said, “how could you know? Besides, a lot of things have clarified for me in the meantime, and it validates my intuition if everything pans out the way we expect it will tonight.”

He moved his hand to take it away from her face. She stopped him, holding it tight in hers.

“Don’t, Will,” she said.

“What?”

“Don’t take your hand away, please.”

Her eyes stared deep into his as his lips moved to brush softly against hers. A quiet, harmonic sound of satisfaction came from inside her. She kissed him softly, her lips lingering on his for a few seconds. He stroked her cheekbone with his thumb as their lips came together in a deeper, lingering, meaningful kiss. Her hand lay flat on his breastbone as their mouths moved seductively against each other. He felt the wisp of her tongue as it flitted quickly, exploring his.

“I love your lips, Jane,” he whispered into her mouth.

She sighed as he took her lower lip between his, sucking on it gently as his tongue touched the soft pink flesh. She felt his hand touch her knee, slowly moving inside and cradling it as he continued to kiss her softly. She felt her desire build as his kisses and touch combined to take her away to a place she’d never been. Her arms slipped around his neck to cradle him and hold him closer as she relaxed into the kiss, easing herself back against the sofa, causing her to whimper at the slight movement of his hand to touch her soft thigh muscle under the confines of her skirt.

A sharp, beeping sound made them pause.

“My watch alarm,” he whispered into her mouth.

“Ignore it, Will.”

“I have to get out of here if we’re going to make it to the restaurant.”

“I’m not hungry for food,” she said.

“Neither am I, Jane,” he said, their lips touching as they spoke. “But we have to wait.”

“Until when?”

“Tonight,” he whispered, “I promise.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve dreamed of this for a long time, Jane,” he whispered, kissing her softly, “and I want it to be perfect and free of remorse.”

“How long?” she asked.

“Since the first time I saw you.”

Her eyes moistened and she leaned her forehead against his.

“This is going to be the longest dinner of my life,” she said.

“You’re not the only one,” he said, “but it’ll be worth it.”

“I know, I’m just being a child.”

“I’d better go before I change my mind,” he said. “I’ll collect you at 6:15.”

“Text me when you’re on your way. I’ll meet you outside the front door. Don’t be late.”

They kissed, and he left for home. As he drove home, Jane slowly opened her laptop. She clicked on the icon she’d saved on her desktop, a link to a Google search page. She scrolled through the search results, ignoring the lurid headlines and focusing on the medical sites instead. She found one called WebMD under the headline, ‘Blowjobs: What Are They and How to Give One.’

It was very nerve-racking for her as she’d never performed fellatio. She knew the mechanics, but nothing beats experience, and Robert was averse to the practice, refusing point blank to let her near him. He was equally as adamant when it came to cunnilingus, the mere utterance of the word sending him into an orbit of anger and accusation.

She expected that Will, after her recent experience, didn't have the same hang-ups, and she wanted to be prepared enough to know how to maximise their pleasure should the situation arise. Until the previous day, the only ‘practical education’ she’d had was from Sinéad or the girls at work. These were descriptive and instructional, but she needed a more informed view from a better-informed source.

It only took ten minutes to trawl through the web page, which broke it down under various useful and seemingly informed headings. She felt it covered almost everything, from what it was to the proper techniques, the preferred reaction of the man, and the ultimate result. It also covered the hygiene and safety procedures involved — it even included a list of tips to enhance the experience for both parties, and it all sounded reasonably accurate to her doctor’s brain.

She searched a similar site, Healthline, then for cunnilingus. It yielded many more articles, exploring it from both participants' perspectives. What seemed to shine like a beacon from both was the value of a sympathetic and experienced partner, which dulled her excitement somewhat and cast a slight shadow of doubt in her mind about her ability to give or receive oral stimulation. She was, however, determined to engage with it if it came to pass. She reread the article on dealing with the presence of semen should it find its way into her mouth. Apart from the health warnings, it wasn’t overly against the practice, basically saying it was the individual’s choice how to deal with it.

Time was moving quickly, so she closed her computer and turned on the shower to heat the water. She showered slowly, making sure she was scrupulously clean and shaved everywhere. She dried herself off and wrapped herself in a bath towel as she sat at the bedroom mirror to dry her hair. At 6:00, she was dressing when Will’s text arrived, saying he was leaving the house — she smiled, stepped into the pink thong he had washed for her, and slipped into the matching bra that completed the set. She picked up a black stocking but, preferring her bare legs that she had just shaved, decided to go without.

She took her new black dress from its hanger in the bathroom and slipped into it, delighting in how it made her feel and in how it looked on her as she saw herself in the mirror. A light touch of powder to her cheekbones, a soft line of red lip gloss that matched the tie she’d bought for Will, a final brush through her sleek black hair and a spritz of YSL Libre, and she was ready for anything. To protect her bare arms and shoulders from the cold, she wore a beige trench coat and scarf that she could leave in the car if necessary.

Feeling as ready as she could be, she picked up her bag and left the room, arriving in the cold car park to find Will sitting on the left wing of his car, smiling and dressed immaculately in a black Hugo Boss suit. He pulled her in and whispered in her ear.

“You look gorgeous, Jane.”

“Thanks, but you look fantastic too, Will”, she said.

“Where’s my fucking tie?” he laughed.

“In my bag,” she said, seriously. "I'll put it on for you."

"Why? I'm quite capable of doing it myself," he said as he held her door open for her.

"No, you're not," she said.

"How do you know that?" he asked, genuinely at a loss.

"You wore a green tie to my wedding," she said.

"And?"

She smiled. "It could be described as, at best, askew."

"Maybe I'll askew to do it for me in future, then."

"Not funny," she said, laughing as he started the car.

It was a comfortable drive into the city, and he found easy parking on the street across the road from the Hugh Lane Gallery on Parnell Square, his Gallery Pass allowing him free parking in one of four spaces owned by the Gallery. He got out of the car and held Jane’s door as she got out, his hand supporting hers. She stood straight and smiled at him as she brushed her hand across her coat to rid it of some imaginary dust.

Will shivered in the cool night air of the city as he closed the door and locked the car before taking her hand and walking the short distance to the other side of the road and over to the steps that led down into the basement restaurant, where they were greeted in the entry vestibule by Anton in his full chef’s whites.

“Anton, this is Jane Ward,” he said, making sure he understood what was going on with a blink.

Anton winked as he helped Jane with her coat, catching the look of wonder in Will’s eyes when he saw her dress for the first time. Jane noticed it too, and she smiled as her nerves settled, and she pulled a red silk tie from her handbag. She let it drop like a Yo-Yo and laughed with Will as he reacted to the sight. She stepped closer, and he held her waist. She felt his fingers move against her skin through the soft material of her dress.

“You look absolutely amazing, Jane,” he said.

“Thank you, Will, now shut the fuck up and stand still like a good little boy,” she said as she slipped the tie around and under the collar of his shirt and began to tie it, while Anton amused himself by coaching from the sidelines.

“Are you using the half or full Windsor knot, Jane?” he asked, “or maybe the Eldridge, perhaps?”

“Shut up, Anton,” Will said.

“It’s a Four in Hand knot, Anton,” Jane said, “I think it suits the occasion and also the laid-back elegance of the suit and its wearer. I can leave the knot low, exposing the top button of the shirt.”

She slipped the tail through the keep loop, adjusted it so it was centred over the shirt's buttons, and smiled in satisfaction.

“There!” she said. “That’s perfect, Will,” she said, stretching to kiss him.

She beamed as he took her hand and spun her around when Anton told them to follow him into the dining area. She flushed as his lips touched her ear as they walked to a table where Anton stood holding the back of a chair. She blushed a little, and her stomach clutched deliciously as Will whispered in her ear, “You’re going to be in so much trouble later on, little girl.”

Anton was joined by a young girl dressed in a crisp white uniform.

“This is Celine,” he said, “she’s in her second year of training and has just returned from London, where she spent six months working in Pétrus by Gordon Ramsay. Celine will prepare your menu this evening. Celine?”

He stepped aside and stood behind the young trainee.

“Good evening, Jane and Will. I’ve prepared a special three-course menu for you featuring our signature Chateaubriand main course, an appetiser of Langoustine and Yuzu Kosho, and a special off-menu dessert of Plaisir sucré, from the menus at Pétrus,” she said with a nervous smile.

“Any questions?” Anton asked them.

“Can I ask what Plaisir sucré is, please?” Jane asked.

“She’s a doctor,” Will explained.

“Of course, Jane,” Celine said, “it’s a beautiful dessert of Chocolate crémeux, hazelnut, and milk. It’s a favourite of mine from the Pétrus menu and is something a little different for you tonight.”

“Can we tell everyone else in the dining room about it?” Will asked.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” she said with a laugh as she made way for a server to place some bread and olives on the table and a Sommelier to tell them about the bottle of wine he’d brought to the table.

Eventually Jane and Will were left alone, and they got stuck into the bread and olives.

“I didn’t realise how hungry I was, Will,” Jane said as she speared a couple of olives and some tomato bread with basil and chive pesto.

“It’s always the way, Jane, but don’t fill up too much on the bread — these food servings are deceptive.”

After about an hour, following their first course, Anton arrived at the table with an electronic tablet and handed it to Will. He pressed something on the screen and scrolled through it, his face showing his displeasure. Jane watched, curious about what he was seeing. He looked at her and silently handed it over so she could see for herself.

Her face remained inscrutable as she watched a video of her husband and his registrar take their seats in the private dining room at D’Olier Street Restaurant, and toast her with champagne before kissing her whilst hooking his finger under her bra between her breasts to help him pull her to him. There were also various still pictures of them being affectionate, some so clear you'd think they’d posed for them specifically. She handed it back to Anton, who disappeared just as their Chateaubriand course arrived with a fanfare of theatre.

“What are your thoughts on the pictures, Jane?” Will said.

“Relief, predominantly,” she said. “It’s enlightening to me, though. I never felt included in anything with him or his family. I’d sometimes wonder why he asked me to marry him at all. This proves that I wasn’t imagining things.”

“I know your parents are comfortable enough, Jane, but are they wealthy?” he asked.

“Yes, very. Have you heard of Signal Medical and Surgical Equipment?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“My grandfather started that, and my father owns it now since he died,” she said.

“You’d never think to talk to him, would you?” he said. “He’s as normal as they come, in a social sense, I mean.”

“They weren’t fans of Robert,” she said, “and I know it used to irk him, especially when my father would comment on the size of his house. He’s planning to give me an endowment so we can buy a larger one. He’s discussed it with Robert and had the accountants working on a way to eliminate the revenue obligation.”

“The heritage tax?”

“Something like that, there’s a limit in place or something.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that — it’s €4000,000 at the moment.”

“How do you know that?” she asked.

“My father is loaded too,” he said matter-of-factly, “why can’t your father and his father get together and give you the maximum amount each? You’d get a decent house for that kind of bread.”

“His father is a porter in Tallaght hospital,” she said.

He raised his eyebrows quickly as he cut into his steak.

“Do you think that’s why he married me, Will?”

“Do you?”

“Well, it seems pretty fucking obvious now, doesn’t it?” she said.

“But, surely to Christ, Robert must be earning big money now that he’s a consultant, Jane.”

“Maybe so, but you’d never think it to listen to him talk,” she said. “There’s certainly never any money for €350 bottles of champagne at dinner. And a fucking Michelin Star restaurant was never in our future. His fucking car is twelve years old, for fuck’s sake.”

“So why would he want you to give up work?” he asked, knowing the answer but needing her to put it together herself.

“To have babies,” she said, “he maintains that … ”

“Maintains what?” Will said.

“That cunt!” she said. “I’d become pregnant, and my father would hand over the money for a house, leaving me stuck at home looking after a child while he fucks his registrar, and anyone else he fancies, on the side.”

“He’s not exactly Colin Farrell, Jane,” Will said.

“No, but he’s a doctor,” she said, “and some women prefer that. You know, I was reluctant to face this tonight, but now, I can’t fucking wait.”

“You’re so cute when you’re fired up,” he said.

“I’m sorry, but it’s fucking infuriating to think he’s wasted three years of my life with this sham relationship,” she said.

“Ok, but it could be a hell of a lot worse, Jane,” Will said. “There could have been children involved — what could you have done then?”

“There is that, I suppose,” she said, “and I wouldn’t have met you.”

“Which isn’t exactly a bonus, he said.

“You can’t steal my quest for sympathy, Will. I won’t let you,” she said, laughing. “Is your father in construction too?”

“In a roundabout way, he’s one of those filthy property speculators you hear about in the media,” he said.

“Is he famous or infamous?” she asked.

“No, he keeps his head down and plays his cards very close to his chest,” I said. “His holdings are varied and extensive.”

“That’s interesting,” she said. “Do you work with him?”

“Sometimes. I try to steer clear of his interests as much as possible, Jane,” he said. “I tend to get involved when something goes awry, or he decides to alleviate his boredom.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“I just have to say the word, and I can move into the penthouse office suite and run the business at any time,” he said. “He holds quite a large land bank that he will sometimes develop into apartments, offices, commercial or housing developments. For that, he’ll bring in one of the larger established contractors. When he does that, I have to manage the architects and contractors, and I oversee the program to meet all of the deadlines.”

“Do you get on well with him?”

He laughed as he paused to think about his answer.

“At the end of the day, Jane, he’s my father, and I respect him for that. When it comes to work, we’re like oil and water. He detests my lifestyle, but my mother says he’s secretly proud of what I do, and I know for a fact that he spreads my name around.”

“What’s your mother like?”

“She’s my mother, what can I say? I’d imagine she’s quite like all mothers except, unlike yours, she can’t cook to save her life,” he said, and they laughed.

“You know, Will,” she said, “I once thought that you and my mother had a thing going.”

“What?”

“You were never out of their house for a time, and she seemed to become this diva all of a sudden,” she said, laughing.

“She’s just a very vivacious lady, Jane, I love her. She’s easy to get on with, and she and your father idolise each other,” he said. “I enjoy both of them.”

She gazed at him as he spoke, her head shaking slightly in wonder. She reached for his hand across the table but stopped when Anton returned with his tablet and set it down.

“I’ll leave that with you, guys,” he said. “They left the restaurant a few minutes ago.”

“Already?”

“It’s nearly 11:00 for fuck’s sake!”

Will checked his watch.

“Christ, sorry, Anton, we lost track of time,” he said.

“How was dinner, Jane?” Anton asked.

“It was absolutely the best meal I’ve ever had, Anton,” she said.

“Probably the company more than the food.”

“It’s the whole thing together,” she said. “Celine is wonderful too — you’ve struck gold with her.”

“I know, she’ll have her own star someday. She’s a natural,” he said.

Will handed him his card.

“What’s that for?” he asked.

“The fucking bill. What do you think it’s for?” he said.

“Fuck off! Your money’s no good here, Will — Carol wants a kitchen.”

“OK,” he said, pulling an envelope from his inside pocket. “Give this to Celine for me, will you?”

“What is it?” Anton asked.

“It’s an envelope. What does it look like?”

“This isn’t necessary, Will.”

“Give it to her, or you can fuck off with your kitchen.”

“Carol’s kitchen,” Anton corrected him.

“Either, either.”

“Touché,” he said before departing. “Take a look at the footage before you leave — I’ve sent you a Dropbox link. It’s all on there.”

“Is it similar to what we watched earlier?” Will asked.

“Yes.”

“Ok, we don’t need to see it right now, Anton — we should probably get moving ourselves,” he said, looking at Jane, who just nodded.

“Everything is in the Dropbox, guys,” he said. “I’m so sorry for your troubles, Jane. I know how you feel.”

She hugged him, and he shook Will’s hand.

“Look after her, Will,” he said.

He nodded, and they left the restaurant. As they drove away, she looked out the side window, her thoughts taking her a million miles away.

“Ok, Jane?” he asked.

“Nervous,” she said.

“How do you want to handle this? Do you want me to record everything on my phone when we go in?”

“No. I think I should go in on my own,” she said.

“Why?”

“It’ll be less of a freak show, Will,” she said. “His reactions will be more natural because he won’t be trying to put on a show for you. You intimidate him, and he tries to convey the impression that he’s better than you.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, he’s very competitive; the whole fucking family is, so he has to manufacture a front to cover his inadequacies. Did you not see him after the wedding outside the church, celebrating like he just scored the winning try in a rugby game? It was so fucking embarrassing, and my parents were disgusted.”

“I never saw that, Jane. I remember that they went through three microphones during the speeches because they talked for so long they ran the batteries down.”

“Is that the memory you took away that day?” She laughed, “What a waste of €30,000 if everyone was the same.”

“My memory was of you, Jane.”

“I was almost anorexic that day,” she said quietly, “he had me on starvation rations, so I’d be slim in the dress he’d picked for me to wear.”

“Jane!”

“I know, and he was conscious that my arse looked too big,” she said.

“Callipygian, is the word.”

“You can tell me what that means later,” she said as he pulled into his garden. “Will you wait here while I go in and sort this out? I brought a couple of bags with me to convey the impression that I was doing nothing more than collecting some stuff.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out three folded linen totes, then kissed him quickly and left the car. He followed her to the gate and watched her stride into the lion’s den.

“Hey, Boss?” he heard behind him and spun around to see Elvis and his missus, walking across the road after a night out at the pub.

“Ah, Dave,” he said, knowing that his wife, Sharon, wasn’t amused when he called him Elvis. “Are you two out for a romantic stroll in the moonlight?”

“Yeah, something like that,” he said, laughing. “What’s the story? Are you not talking to us anymore?”

“What?”

“You haven’t been out to the job for a while,” he said.

“Oh, sorry. Do you miss me or something?”

“Yes, like an infected foot,” he said, grinning.

“I meant to get out to you today, but I got waylaid elsewhere,” he said.

“Lorraine told me you were busy.”

“Did she now?” he said, a little perplexed. “What did she say?”

“Just that she saw you this morning and you looked busy,” he said as Sharon tried to hide a smirk.

“I see, was she telling tales out of school?” he asked.

“It was funny,” Sharon said as Dave looked at her with a gormless look of confusion.

“I suppose it must appear that way, Shaz,” he said, “Lorraine should learn to keep her mouth shut.”

“She didn’t mean anything by it, Will,” she said, worried she’d dropped her daughter in it.

He was about to reply when they heard an outbreak of hostilities from next door as the hall door burst open and slammed against a wall. Dave and Will took a step towards the gate to see a half-naked Robert, gripping Jane roughly by the arm as she screamed for him to release her. He saw them out of the corner of his eye and released her as Will stepped into the garden to catch her as she stumbled from his grasp. He held her with an arm around her as Robert took a step towards him. Dave, always ready for a fight, jumped in front of them and told him to back off and get dressed.

“Will, I … ” he began, but Will stopped him with a look.

“Not wise, Robert,” he said. “I wouldn’t push it if I were you. Take Dave’s advice and put some clothes on —nobody needs to see that.”